Maddening Mundane Drones on and on

I’m stuck today. I know there are so many things I should be doing. Need to be doing. I feel like there are invisible hands grabbing at my arms, pulling me in multiple directions at the same time, with equal force, so I go precisely nowhere. Rooted in place by an unseen force. There’s no jittery anxiety. No. Just a low level dread, like molasses settling down my throat, choking my ability to express what I must do next.
Another day. They just keep coming. No matter how much I push, no matter how much I accomplish, something else will always take its place. That’s life. That’s how things go on. It’s how we understand time. One thing following another in an endless stream of sensation. Continually passing. But for what? I’m not sure I know. I feel completely adrift in a sea of unfulfilled dreams. No white picket fence. No knight in shining armor. Hell, no knight in slightly tarnished armor. I don’t see a future. If I went to sleep tonight and did not wake up, I would not want for anything because there is nothing for me to want. Only vagaries. I wouldn’t lament my loss. Not that I would have the ability to lament anything anymore, but you know what I mean.
I’m steady, and stable, but I have nothing to look forward to. I don’t know what the future holds. I might run smack into the jackpot of lives tomorrow and ride off happily ever after into the sunset, but sitting here today, trying to pull my thoughts together, I can only see an endlessly repeating loop of my daily activities stretching into the horizon. I’m surviving quite well. Surviving. But I don’t feel like I’m living. One foot in front of the other, one step, and then another, plodding onwards. Alone and empty.
This stability drones on. I start to feel a little dead inside. Maybe this is why it’s so hard to give up the intense flux of emotions that come across the borderline. Everything is life and death but all of it is living.
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6 comments on “Maddening Mundane Drones on and on

  1. So beautifully written. I've given up on living. It doesn't seem to be something I'll ever be able to capture. An elusive shadow in the corner of my eye. Apparently I wasn'tmeant to live. Simply survive. I hope you find your way out. I would

  2. I understand it completely, having just gone through a period a bit like that myself.I've always been a survivor, but survival is still balanced on the pin prick of hope. Living is a step further than survival, but tends to come more from creating situations rather than just hoping for them to happen.I always find it fascinating how the same image of reality can look so different from one day to the next, a bit like looking at a painting from different angles (even from behind!).Your post on hope couldn't have said it better:http://downwardspiralintothevortex.blogspot.com/2011/06/hope.htmlP.S. Remind me to preview comments before posting next time! xD

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